Seneca to Nero--Letters Concerning Xena
by Phineas Redux
Summary: The famous philosopher, statesman and dramatist Seneca becomes embroiled with the Warrior Princess and her companion, after the Emperor Nero insists he help in dealing with the women's activities.


' **Seneca to Nero—Letters Concerning Xena** '

by

Phineas Redux

—O—

 **Summary:—** The famous philosopher, statesman and dramatist Seneca becomes embroiled with the Warrior Princess and her companion, after the Emperor Nero insists he help in dealing with the women's activities.

 **Disclaimer:—** MCA/Universal/RenPics, or somebody, own all copyrights to everything related to ' _Xena: Warrior Princess_ ' and I have no rights to them, dam' it.

—O—

 **To the Most Admired and Celebrated Emperor, Nero,**

Honoured Sire, Greetings from Seneca in Eleusis,

After Centurion Maximus delivered your scroll a few days ago I have been deeply considering its contents. To be picked out by the Glorious Emperor for such an important duty is indeed a great honour; I find myself entirely unable to grasp how truly magnificent an expression of your trust and belief in my capacity this enfolds. Perhaps though, if a lowly citizen merely on holiday in Greece may put forward the supposition, there are possibly better qualified persons able to carry out your instructions more competently than I? I offer thanks and prayers to the Gods for your continued good health and that Rome bathes in your ever-encompassing purity and magnificent competence for ever, Your Everlasting yet also Humblest Servant, Seneca.

( _Translation— Great Gods, how do I get out of this? The man's mad, as everyone knows; none better than I who taught him as a youngster. Butter, that's it; butter, bucket-loads of butter, that's the way._ )

-O-

 **To the Honoured Philosopher Seneca,**

I note the contents of your missive in reply to my late instructions, dear Seneca. I sent you an order, which I have every faith you will carry out with great professionalism and dignity. As to your intimation in your scroll, wishing I had selected someone else for these duties; I have an up-coming Public Spectacle to mark the completion of my beautiful Domus Aurea in a couple of months; all sorts of presentations and Games to enthrall and please the Crowd; one wonders if you would rather be present at this Entertainment, in one position or another, than buckle down to carrying out the Emperor's wishes? The Emperor Nero sends His Most Emminent Regards.

( _Translation— Jumped-up guttersnipe, quibble with the Emperor would he, damn him. What can I do? Ah yes, the Domus Aurea—my so beautiful villa—, and the Public Circus to be held in its gardens, He-He. The threat of attending this, for all the wrong reasons'll soon sort the little squirt out; that'll make him change his mind, quicker than a Scythian barbarian. Hmm, my old tutor Seneca needs keeping an eye on; not so dull as I may at first have thought, hmm._ )

-O-

 **To the Ever-Honoured and Revered Emperor, Nero,**

I arrived in Stagira three days ago, Honoured Sire. So far there is little word of the Warrior Princess Xena, and her companion, name as yet unknown. Which is not to say her reputation does not precede her, of course. If one were to listen to, and believe, every story told in the local wine-shops, she is a very paragon of madness danger and death. It appears she is at present somewhere in the Northern forests, co-habiting with some barbarian Amazon Queen or other. Of her blonde companion I have as yet no word, but have instructed certain local individuals, under my pay and threat of your Exulted Anger, to see what can be found out. I shall, of course, keep your Honoured Revered Godship informed about every step taken in my hunt to meet, and bring to account, the Warrior Princess. Your Reverent Servant, Seneca.

( _Translation— Oh Gods, Oh Gods, this Xena seems to be an unhinged maniac; might be the dam' Emperor's sister, for all that. What can I do? Stall, that's the way; stall like there's no tomorrow; after all, the Emperor Nero's in Rome, while I'm slumming it in this dam' hole, Stagira. I mean, what can he do, that I can't slip out of with any luck, given fair warning? Oh Gods, I'm going to have nightmares tonight, I just know it._ )

-O-

 **To the Honoured Aedile Seneca,**

Greetings from the Emperor. I was pleased to receive your last report, and to hear of your safe arrival in Stagira and that you are beginning your quest to find the Warrior Princess. I do not mind telling you, Seneca, that when I have my hands on her, and she is safely tied up in a cold damp cell under my Domus Aurea, I shall be greatly pleased—in which case you may expect wonderful honours—as opposed, of course, to the general direction of events in your personal life if the opposite outcome, failure, holds sway with your actions. From the hand of The Glorious Emperor Nero.

(Translation— _A fair start, I suppose, but Seneca already seems to be nurturing a defeatist attitude about that damned woman, and her companion, whatever her name is. Better jolly him along a little, just to keep his mind concentrated on important matters._ )

-O-

 **To the Most Respected and Esteemed Emperor, Nero,**

I have now been in residence in this fair city of Stagira for just over three months, and can now report some significant information concerning the woman whom you are interested in. The so-called Warrior Princess Xena of Amphipolis, it is now said by my spies, is on her way back to this city and may be looked for in the next ten days or so. The maniple of Roman soldiers, under the expert command of the centurion Gaius, which you have honoured me with the use of will be more than sufficient to allay any trouble which might arise when we go to arrest the outlaw woman, and her still, I am afraid, anonymous female companion. I give greetings of all Honour and Health forever to your Great Highness. Your Most Humble Servant Seneca.

( _Translation— Oh, Great God Jupiter protect me. She's coming back; she's actually going to arrive here in this dam' cess-pit, Stagira, in a matter of days, when that imbecilic bloodthirsty idiot centurion Gaius is determined to have her by the heels before her first day here is past. Madness, madness. I've had several more up-to-date private reports from my spies and informers in the meantime, all conclusive in the opinion that anyone who goes up against these two women will live to regret it, including a whole maniple of Roman soldiers. My spies tell me this trick has been tried before, and that few survived. Oh Gods, Oh Gods, why did that maniac Nero pick on me? Is it just because I'm marginally brighter than the majority of those sycophants surrounding the unhinged tyrant? How in Hades do I extricate myself from this catastrophe? Think, man, think._ )

-O-

 **To the Aedile Seneca, Holder of My Trust,**

Greetings Seneca, more than another month has passed and I have just received your latest report. I must really do something about the conveyance of Royal documents between Greece and Rome, it takes far too long—but this is not your problem, my so-honoured Seneca. So, by now the offensive Warrior Princess, and her blonde lickspittle companion if present, will have arrived in Stagira and so been captured by yourself and the maniple of soldiers under yours and centurion Gaius's command. This gives me great pleasure to contemplate. I expect a full detailed report of the circumstances of the woman's capture within your next, eagerly anticipated, missive. Meanwhile, Seneca, all Honour and Respect from your Happy-in-Anticipation Emperor Nero.

( _Translation— Ha, Ha, so, acting on my orders the fool Seneca will have by now captured the criminal Xena and, I suppose, that anonymous but annoying blonde companion she is known to associate with. Har, what won't I do when I have her, Xena at least, safe in chains in the cells under my truly spectacular Domus Aurea. Ha, Ha, wonderful dreams of sweet revenge. As for Seneca, not politic at all to let a man with so much knowledge of my private affairs live to tell tales; my old tutor though he be. Maybe I should send centurion Gaius a private missive ordering him to dispose of the Aedile overboard on their way homewards with their prisoners? Yes, I like that._ )

-O-

 **To His Supreme Majesty and Proto-God Nero, greetings,**

Sire, it is with some sorrow and trepidation I must transcribe sad news. The most sought after outlaw Xena of Amphipolis, and her still unnamed blonde companion—no-one seems to know her title or circumstances—did indeed arrive in Stagira some days ago. This happened early in the day and, before I was made aware of the news, centurion Gaius on his own decision took a segment of his maniple to beard them in their den; which is to say, grab them at the city Inn where they had taken a room. It is with regret I have to forward bad news—three soldiers were killed, four wounded, and Gaius himself is now in the infirmary receiving attention for heavy bruising and at least one broken bone. The women, meanwhile, go about their lawful purposes as if nothing of interest had happened. If you ask why I have taken no action to confront the reprobates and secure them in chains, I can only refer your Exalted Highness to the fact that we are at present, here in Stagira, in the democracy of Grecian Macedonia. They take the Rule of Law very seriously here, still; and even allowing for the fact I am a Roman Aedile with over-arching powers—and the centurion Gaius and his maniple of soldiers stand for themselves—I still cannot overturn the normal course of Law in this Greek-Macedonian demos. So, for the present the women go free and unhindered. Hoping this sad news finds your Great Worthiness in the best of Supreme Health I am your poor servant, Seneca.

(Translation— _Oh Jupiter, I'm a dead man. What won't the maniac Nero do to me if I return to Rome? Even if, by some miracle, I manage to capture Xena at a later date? I have a curious fancy Nero has a very nasty future awaiting me. Apropos of which Gaius, over the last ten days, has been giving me some worryingly questioning glances from the corner of his eyes when he thought I wasn't looking. Has he received secret orders, concerning my immediate future, whether successful in my mission or not? Oh Gods, what wouldn't I give for a really good escape plan right now._ )

-O-

 **To My Servant Seneca, presently in Stagira—but—**

 _Jupiter's Balls_ , man, what happened? Gaius wounded, and my soldiers put to the sword by a couple of mere women— _Great Mars's Thunderbolts_ , I could have done better myself if I had only been there. And you, Seneca? What of you? Why weren't you informed immediately the women arrived in the city? Why weren't you hauled complaining and no doubt swearing, from the cess-pit you call your bed—beside whatever hetaera or catamite, or both, you are presently involved with—to be given the news while it was still hot? Imbecile. So, though a Roman Aedile, with orders straight from myself, you are still too afraid of petty local Macedonian Laws to lift a finger in pursuit of my clearly desired biddings? What good, may I ask, do you still suppose yourself to retain in my service? Forget local Greek democracy—are you or are you not the personally honoured servant of no less a person—God, indeed—than my exalted Self? Find the damnable Xena—and the blonde wildcat who creeps beside her everywhere, if present—and bring them back to Rome in chains. That is what I require your next report to contain—anything less and you can start picking which cell in my gorgeous Domus Aurea you are most enamoured of—one with a south-facing barred window, or northern—but whichever, your temporary residence there won't be for long. Your Most Unhappy Emperor Nero.

(Translation— _Damned imbecile, can't he do anything but stain vellum with blots of ink? All I ask is for Xena,—and, yes, that damned irritating blonde who seems to think the Warrior Princess is the centre of her universe,—to be paraded in humiliation through the streets of Rome in chains, thus showing all these appalling plebs who infest the city how just and powerful I am. Gods, what an idiot Seneca has turned out to be—and what a fool Gaius is too. Imagine going up against the Princess with only a section of the full maniple I honoured him with the command of. Sounds like the incompetent loser got his just deserts. Oh Jupiter, what do I do now—I so want that woman, Xena, in my hands—properly restrained, of course—but how to accomplish this so-wished for outcome. The fool Seneca seems to have failed me, I'm afraid. Is there anyone else I can send, in this emergency, to take over? Hmm, I'll think on it for a few days._ )

-O-

 **A Private Letter to Lucilius.**

 **To My Great Friend Lucilius, salutations,**

It is with regret that I must inform you, dearest friend, that I have come somewhat unstuck here in my newly appointed position of Aedile under the orders of the irremediably mad Nero—yet how promising he seemed as my young pupil? As you know, from my previous letters—which I hope you have industriously burnt after reading—my mission from the clown Nero was to surround and capture the outlaw Warrior Princess Xena of Amphipolis; including, if necessary, some blonde woman who continually haunts her side like a shadow—we must, of course, make our own assumptions about such a close relationship, _eh_ Lucilius? Anyway, suffice to say that whole-heartedly incompetent centurion Gaius took it into what passes for his mind to attack the woman on a frontal basis, with less than a third of his available forces, unbeknownst to me. The outcome you no doubt already visualise, dear friend. Yes, complete catastrophe. Gaius and his soldiers sent packing about their business, with many unmanly tears and great howling. Xena and her friend triumphant over all. I, in the doghouse, shortly to transfer to the dungeons below that awful tribute to unfettered egotism the Gods'-Awful Domus Aurea, and quickly thereafter, no doubt, to be a bright, if passing, star of the entertainment in the irrational tyrant's latest Circus Show. _Oh Gods_ , now at least I know what being a Stoic really means, my friend. What to do, what to do? Well, Lucilius, this powerful, indeed terrifying, prospect has been taken out of my hands by a curious coincidence—well, frankly, not so much a coincidence as a well-thought out plan of campaign by the said Warrior Princess herself. Yes, she actually had the brass neck to invite me in person to the room at the Inn she occupies with her female catamite—can a young woman be a catamite?, or is she merely another form of hetaera? Interesting question—where was I? Oh yes, Xena met me in the public room of the Inn when I got there—well, what worse fate could overtake me than that which awaits me in Rome, Lucilius? She certainly has a powerful presence, dear friend; let me describe her as I saw her first. She is overwhelmingly tall, head and shoulders above me. She is built like a gladiator, all muscle, strength, and a decisive stance which brooks no opposition. She is slightly dark in tone of skin, though by no means excessively so; hair of intense blackness flowing down across her shoulders and upper back like a heavy curtain. Her eyes are deep blue and piercing; no-one, including me I'm afraid Lucilius, can stare her out of countenance. She is dressed in a tight black leather corset-top embellished with bronze accoutrements, the which shows off her truly splendid, _er_ , bosom to wondrous effect; wears a short skirt of loose leather strips over a fuller leather underskirt; has bare legs of immense muscular power, and is shod in knee-high leather boots, which I admit heated my blood so to witness; and wears leather arm-bands and wristlets. Her weaponry consists of a long sword, longer than the usual Roman gladius, carried in a back-sheath, and a weapon you may not be familiar with, a chakram. This is a hollow metal ring about two handspans wide, the outer rim being thin and sharp. It is thrown, having a slicing effect on its victims. They are mostly, I'm reliably informed, a single-throw weapon; but Xena, it appears, has a trick whereby she can make them, amazingly, return to her hand after every throw. Her voice is deep and melodious, though with a grating undertone which reflects her nature. In opinion she is decisive and absolutely sure of herself; once having made up her mind nothing can deflect her from her actions. So Lucilius, you will no doubt be wondering by this time, what were or are her opinions? Well, once ensconced in her room on the first floor of the Inn—her female companion, of whom I had heard so many contrary rumours, being out on a shopping expedition and not expected back yet for several full clepsydras—she informed me that she had no ill-feelings towards me for the stupid actions—her own words—of the fool Gaius. No, indeed she realised clearly that this whole calamity could not but cast me in a very poor light apropos the mighty Emperor's favour. And then she asked me what I intended to do, Lucilius. Well, seeing there was nothing further of any official nature I _could_ do I told her the truth—being a Stoic, and not merely giving lip-service to this quality but reverently believing in the concept,—I would return to Rome and accept my fate. She nodded, as if already knowing what my reply would be—then she came up with an altogether different plan. I should drop all thought of returning to my official villa, in the better-class district of this Hades-hole called Stagira, and take flight for pastures new. In fact she told me if I made my way to a particular place in not-so-distant Epirus she had friends there who would willingly look after me. What of the Emperor Nero, I asked. _Oh_ , she replied, Nero wasn't much longer for this world. No, she shook her head at my expression, she had nothing at all to do with it, but she had seen this same situation rearing its ugly head on many similar occasions in her earlier life, and knew for a certainty Nero was headed for a fall, and not so far-off either, if she read the omens rightly. Well Lucilius, I may be a Stoic but I'm not a fool—and this is why this letter comes to you from the balmy rolling hill country of Western Epirus, bordering the Ionian Sea, where I have set up shop in a very nice quiet country villa, surrounded by people who have only my good health at heart. And, do you know Lucilius, I also do not give the maniac Nero long for this world either—though indeed, it may not be any appreciable time before I might again return to Rome a free citizen, I hope; given that the declining moron Nero could possibly yet miraculously decide, with his muddled thinking, to pardon my sins. With all best wishes to my greatest and longest friend, Seneca salutes you, Lucilius.

PS I never got to meet or gain the name of the curious blonde woman who, apparently, travels by Xena's side on all occasions—but she herself must be a wonderful person in her own right, I'm sure.

( _Translation— Gods, saved at the last hurdle, what a relief. Thank Jupiter, and whatever Gods oversee Xena Warrior Princess, and that blonde woman whom she loves. Oh Gods, I feel like a new man._ )

-O-

 **To all the Gods Who Have Forsworn Me, Nero cries in Hatred,**

Damn Jupiter, and all the other Gods, what use are they if they turn their backs on such a great person as I? All I wanted was Xena on a platter for my pleasure and convenience. What difficulty could there be over such a minor matter? And yet all the world turns against me. Damn the World; damn Rome; and, especially, damn every plebian within it. I know I am a God, and am destined, with my wondrous Golden House as my base, for great and glorious things. Let the outlaw Xena, and Rome itself, look to their own affairs, I shall rise triumphant over all—I can see my Fate in the wind—and the sky is blue and fresh beyond.

(Translation— ' _Ha, Ha, I am still the greatest Man in the whole World. I am a God, I can do anything. Ha, Ha, I shall rise triumphant, as the God I truly am, over these filthy hordes of plebian Roman citizens. What a glorious spectacle I shall create with my all-encompassing Power and Glory. Gods, how wonderful I am, and shall be forever, He, He, He.'_ )

-O-

 **A few years later,**

( _An Obsequy— In the words of an anonymous citizen contemplating Nero's dead body, after the Emperor's deposition, 'Well, there he lies; once the greatest man in the world, even thought himself a God, which was certainly his downfall; now nothing but a cold corpse, for who can deride the Gods and not hope to avoid the just deserts of hubris? What a pity about the grand old Stoic, Seneca, though. Ah well, ho-hum, wonder if the new Emperor will be, ahem, a better ruler?_ )

 **The End**


End file.
